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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521481">A Chance Encounter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette'>TriplePirouette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Interested Parties [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Indiana Jones Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, F/M, Steggy Week 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:07:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Undercover to acquire important information, Steve and Peggy run into a friend. Written for Tumblr’s Steggy Week Day 7: Free Choice. Indiana Jones Crossover.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Interested Parties [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Chance Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Agent Peggy Carter went on missions with Steve Rogers all the time, usually at his insistence and at the exasperation of Colonel Phillips, but it was rare that they sent Steve on a mission with Peggy. </p><p>When they needed Peggy it was because they needed a spy who could blend in and get in, get what they needed, and get out fast. Steve didn’t exactly blend in, so when he got the orders to go on one of her missions, they always knew that meant he was there because there was an imminent threat to life and limb and he was to protect her and whatever she was supposed to retrieve at all costs. </p><p>When Peggy went on missions with the Commandos it was in uniform and armed to the teeth. When Steve went on missions with Peggy it was in tactical gear with his shield. </p><p>Until today. </p><p>The tuxedo was stifling. Maybe he’d been in Army issue too long, but the cut seemed too tight and the softness of the fabric was disconcerting. “Stop fidgeting,” Peggy whispered in his ear as they swayed in the middle of the crowded dance floor, “You’ll draw attention.”</p><p>Steve leaned down, his lips tickled by the blonde wig she was wearing, “Can’t help it. I’m no good at this, Peg.”</p><p>She chuckled, eyes still scanning the room. “Dancing or getting dressed up?”</p><p>“Both,” He stood tall, his arms wrapped tight around her, fingers at her hip playing over the silver sequins of her dress in time to the music. </p><p>The club was packed with people dancing, drinking, and smoking. The patrons were the upper echelon of Hitler’s supporters; men who made their money from selling weapons and tanks and had the luxury of behaving like there was no war going on at all. Steve and Peggy danced across the floor, smiling and chatting, but hadn’t seen who they’d come for yet. </p><p>“This is painful,” Peggy muttered, her words drowned out for the people around them by the band playing from one end of the dance floor. </p><p>“I know, I hate seeing all this excess when men are dying a few towns over,” Steve replied softly. </p><p>“Quite right,” she said quickly, and sheepishly, “But I was talking about my shoes. They’re a half size too small.” </p><p>“Right, Sorry,” Steve turned and led her towards the bar, remembering how they’d pieced together their outfits from a meager pile in a closet at the SSR base. </p><p>He wrapped his free arm around her as he leaned on the bar, lifting her just enough that her feet were on the floor but she was unweighted. Anyone looking wouldn’t know and would simply see it as a couple’s embrace, but it made all the difference to Peggy who let out a sigh of relief. “Much better, Darling.”</p><p>He smiled and looked down at her. “I like that.”</p><p>She opened her eyes and looked up at him, bliss written on her face. “What?”</p><p>“Darling.” When her smile grew wider, he couldn’t help it and stole a soft kiss. They were, after all, undercover as a couple. “I can’t wait to take you out for real,” he whispered quickly before lifting his head and ordering from the bartender in German. </p><p>As the bartender walked away to prepare their drinks, Steve felt a tap on his shoulder and turned at hearing a familiar voice, “Verzeihung, haben wir uns noch nie getroffen?” Pardon me, haven’t we met before?</p><p>Steve smiled at the face of Indiana Jones, considerably more cleaned up in his own tuxedo than he’d seen him last. He replied in kind, though his German pronunciation left something to be desired. “Ich glaube schon. Vor ein paar Monaten in einer Bar.” I think so. A few months ago in a bar.</p><p>The bartender brought Steve and Peggy’s drinks, and Steve took the opportunity to lean and whisper in Peggy’s ear as Jones ordered his own, “Doctor Jones, Howard’s friend I met a few months ago.” </p><p>Peggy smiled at Jones brightly, taking a sip of her gin and tonic. Jones being here didn’t exactly complicate things, but it could. “Lass uns einen Tisch holen.” Let’s get a table, she suggested, tilting her head to the small round tables surrounding the dance floor. She and Steve had scouted them earlier and the ones at the corner gave both a good view of the room and a small semblance of privacy. </p><p>The transition was awkward, Jones rattling in German words Steve absolutely didn’t know and Peggy prattling back and laughing lightly. He just smiled bright, pulled out Peggy’s chair for her, and slid her back in to the round table. Steve noticed how Jones didn’t hesitate, but rather flanked Peggy easily, and without a word formed a semi-circle at the table which gave all three of them excellent eye lines. </p><p>He was military, and it showed. </p><p>“How many languages do you know?” Peggy asked politely in English as she slipped her heels out of her shoes under the table. </p><p>“Twenty seven, give or take.” He replied in kind and smiled a charming half smile before sipping his martini. </p><p>“Latine Quid suus 'vestri?” How’s your latin? Peggy switched languages without a blink, and Steve could only smile. </p><p>Jones, too, seemed impressed. “Melius mihi Navajo.” Better than my Navajo.</p><p>Peggy sipped her drink, looking for all the world like she was chatting about the color of the sky or the song the band was playing. “Nominatur enim hic sumus quis Botten. Mihi opus oculi eius specula.” We are here for a man named Botten. I need his eye glasses.</p><p>Steve, understanding a few words now, knew what she was doing. He let his arm wrap around her chair and kept his eyes peeled, letting Peggy do what she did best. </p><p>“Specula?” Glasses? Jones raised his eyebrows, but didn’t otherwise react. </p><p>Peggy leaned back into the crook of Steve’s arm, continuing her facade of a happy socialite as she spoke all business, “Illi autem coordinatae iure haeret in animo speculum novum praestabilem.” They have coordinates etched in the glass for a new munitions factory. </p><p>“Ah!” Jones raised his glass to her, play-acting as if she’d said something funny, but also acknowledging he understood. “Opus est ut homo. Nomen autem viri illius Oster,” I need to find a man. The man’s name is Oster, “Ille scit de furto perierat es.” He knows about some stolen art. </p><p>Jones switched back to English, eyes on Steve. “It’s good to see you.”</p><p>Steve didn’t miss a beat, “Always good to see a friendly face nowadays.”</p><p>“And this enchanting creature?” He tipped his head toward Peggy, look appreciatively, but not intensely. </p><p>She smiled, enjoying the attention. “His partner,” she replied, knowing names were for later. </p><p>“Partner?” Jones asked, eyes fixed on the way she was draped across him. </p><p>“It’s a very useful word,” Peggy sat up, her eyes locked across the room, “it has multiple meanings.”</p><p>Steve and Indy followed her eye line to reveal a small group of men entering at the far corner, slipping in to try to avoid detection through the door to the backstage area. Of the three, two wore glasses. “And just when we were starting to have a good time,” Indy murmured as he took another drink. Peggy slid back into the cradle of Steve’s arm, smiling up at him and purposefully keeping her eyes off the men. </p><p>“That’s our man,” Steve murmured. He’d already been looking out at the crowd and the bad, so he didn’t need to move his gaze much to stay unassuming. “That’s Botten, overweight, bald, limp on the right leg and glasses. He’s our man. Not sure about the other two,” he whispered quietly.</p><p>Jones leaned forward, looking down at his martini and speaking only loud enough for them to hear. “The tall thin one with the permanent scowl is Oster. Don’t know the other man.”</p><p>Steve took his arm from around Peggy and reached for her hand, holding it tight for a second as he took a sip of his drink. He nodded, as if a plan had formed in his mind. He brightened and raised his voice just a little as he reached Peggy’s hand out to Jones. “You two should get to know one another better.” Jones’ mouth opened and closed, slightly confused, but he didn’t stop Steve as he continued. “Why don’t you two dance? She’s getting sick of my two left feet, and I’ll get us another round.”</p><p>“Splendid idea, darling,” Peggy slipped her feet back in her shoes and held her hand out to Jones, smiling to sell the performance. “He can’t dance to save his life.”</p><p>They all stood, Jones taking Peggy’s hand and leading her out to the dance floor as Steve circled round the other side. Indy smoothly led Peggy out to the center of the floor, and with a few quick moves, he had them swaying closer and closer to the table of men they were interested in. </p><p>“You really are a much better dancer than Steve,” Peggy murmured, impressed at his lead. </p><p>“Partners, huh?” He asked, looking down at her for a moment before spinning them back to get even closer to their targets. He risked a glance at Steve’s position at the bar. “He may have suggested it, but he isn’t exactly happy at how close we’re dancing.”</p><p>“If I let go I’m afraid you’ll spin me through the wall!” She chided, turning her head against his shoulder to keep an eye on the table of men. “And yes, partners. For now, anyway. From on official standpoint we can’t be anything else.”</p><p>Jones let his arms tighten up a second as he shifted, dipping her so he could get a good look at their targets. “It’s a shame a girl like you is off the market.” </p><p>“It’s a shame a man of your reputation can’t keep his focus.” She bit back as he pulled her up. </p><p>“Multitasking,” he sang in her ear, but the joviality was short lived, “and it’s a good thing too, because I think your man and my man are here doing business.” </p><p>Jones was watching Botten, Oster, and the third man he didn’t know at the small table through the reflection in a mirror across the room. They were serious, not at all relaxed or calm as they should be in a club. Steve, with a fresh drink, was slowly making his way closer to them around the perimeter of the dance floor. </p><p>“Seems so,” she said, eyes on and off the men over Indy’s shoulder. She watched a fourth man come in and join them, and after a few quick words, Botten had taken off his glasses and laid them on the table facing the fourth man. “And we may have a problem.”</p><p>Jones turned them quickly and guided her closer to the edge of the dance floor. Steve was edging in, but they were running out of time. Jones pulled back so he could see her face and switched to French, staying vague even though he doubted the ability of anyone in the room to understand him. “A quel point en avez-vous besoin?” How badly do you need those?</p><p>“On les perd ce soir, beaucoup de gens meurent.” We lose them tonight, lots of people die.  She looked up at him, then over his shoulder at Steve crossing the room, then back at Jones. “Et toi?” And you?</p><p>Jones shrugged, “Eh bien, personne ne meurt.” Well, no one dies.  </p><p>Peggy’s body language changed quickly, she pressed into him and lifted up on her toes, whispering in his ear as if she were propositioning him. “When he gets here, punch him as hard as you can and I promise you he’ll pull his punches.” </p><p>Jones was a bit flabbergasted when she pulled back, but he didn’t have time to think when he felt a hand on his shoulder turn him. It was an awkward move, but it also put Steve right between him and the table of men in question. “What do you think you’re doing?” Steve asked loudly. </p><p>Indy, smiled a little half smile and threw up his hands. He laughed, looking at Peggy then back to Steve, and without another thought punched Steve in the jaw. </p><p>Indy knew he didn’t throw the best punches, and he knew even more from how little his fist hurt that Steve should not have fallen back so far, or so hard, that he landed on the table of their targets. </p><p>Peggy was already moving out of the corner of his eye, and Steve was struggling far more than he should have on the table, so Jones moved forward, grabbing his lapels and pushed him back down on the table amongst the outcry from the crowd. Steve grabbed his shoulders and pushed him off, tipping the table in the process. They were making quite the spectacle, and it was working in spades. Steve threw a left punch, just barely connecting with his chin but Jones let it take him back a step.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Peggy feigning fear and hiding behind the now ruined table, sliding one pair of glasses in one garter while she pulled an identical pair out from the other leg and made the switch. </p><p>Steve grabbed Jones again by the lapel, ready to throw another punch, when they were stopped dead at the sound of a gun cocking at the ready. </p><p>Next to them was the man Jones knew as Oster, a tall, thin, waif of a man, who was currently pointing a gun at his head. “Jones,” Oster growled. </p><p>“Hey, Oster. Funny running into you here!” Jones lifted his hands up as Steve let go and stepped half a step back. “You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about some new art…”</p><p>“Should I shoot you now and then ask you my questions,” Oster growled, getting closer, his accent thick German “or should I ask you my questions and shoot you now?”</p><p>“That’s… that’s the same thing,” Jones stuttered a bit, trying to play it cool. He couldn’t tell what they were planning, but Steve and Peggy were moving slowly, changing places. “It should be, ‘should I shoot you now or should I shoot you later.’ I, for one, would go with later.” </p><p>“Oh, no,” Oster shook his head. “I have every intention of shooting you now. I just don’t know if I want you distracted by pain when I’m trying to get my answers.” </p><p>Indy could see Peggy rounding behind Oster, and he took a step forward toward to get the gun in arms reach. “You really don’t want to shoot me first, I’m no good when I’m in pain.”</p><p>Before Oster could answer, Peggy had taken her shoe in her hand and drove it heel first into the soft side of Oster’s neck. It broke the skin, sinking deep, and surprised him enough that Jones could swiftly disarm him. He didn’t think anyone saw his swift move, his hand reaching into Oster’s interior jacket pocket as he brought him down. </p><p>Oster crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain, but their victory was short lived as the men of the club began to show their allegiance and pulled guns one by one, aiming them at Peggy and Indy. </p><p>“Time to go,” Indy mumbled, backing up into Peggy and pushing her towards the backstage door the men had used to come in. </p><p>“Peg!” Steve yelled, tossing something high in the air for her to catch with one hand, stepping on front of her and Jones with the tipped table in his hands, legs snapped off so he could shield them. Bullets started to fly, and they didn’t have much cover. </p><p>Peggy caught what was a mostly full vodka bottle with a handkerchief stuffed it and quickly got the idea. Steve backed them out as Jones laid down the occasional cover shot. Peggy reached her hand forward and rummaged in Steve’s pocket for the lighter she knew was there as they continued to shuffle backwards. </p><p>Jones only pretended not to see that little move. Just partners for now his ass. </p><p>Peggy flipped the lighter to life, voice strong. “Run on three. One, two,” She lit the handkerchief and yelled the last count as Steve dropped the table, giving her throw plenty of room to fly into the group of men still firing. </p><p>Steve turned and pushed them both in front of him, through the backstage door and through a short hallway until they were outside. Once outside Peggy stumbled, her bare feet cut up by sharp cobblestone. Steve pitched her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry quickly, the three of them moving down alleys with Jones keeping the stolen gun up and at he ready, eyes making sure they weren’t being followed. </p><p>Nearly a half mile awaySteve stopped at a nondescript dumpster, gently setting Peggy down and pulling up a dirty tarp to revel his motorcycle. </p><p>Peggy carefully picked her way up to Jones, holding out her hand. “Agent Peggy Carter, SSR. Pleased to meet you Doctor Jones.”</p><p>He laughed, shaking her hand, “Likewise, Agent Carter.” He uncocked the gun but kept it in his hand. “I liked that move with the heel.”</p><p>“Do what you can with what you have,” she replied, serious, “Though I do think I may have done him some permanent damage.”</p><p>“He won’t be missed, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jones moved closer to her and put his back to the brick wall, eyes still on the look out. “He was Hitler’s number one man for dealing stolen art. Art he sometimes killed people for. Not a good guy.”</p><p>Steve reached over and handed Peggy a small flashlight, his bow tie already undone and the top three buttons of his shirt open. He was pulling clothes from the small pack on the motorcycle, and he already had exchanged his dress shoes for boots. </p><p>“Thank you,” she reached into the slit on the side of her dress and pulled the glasses she’d stolen earlier from her garter. She turned, shining the bright blue flashlight beam through the glass and onto the brick. As she moved it around, clips of words and coordinates could be seen. “We’ve got it,” she smiled sedately. “We need to get these back.”</p><p>Steve nodded, taking the glasses and flashlight and slipping them into a small black case as Peggy took a pair of pants from the seat of the motorcycle where Steve had laid them out. She hid behind Steve’s bulk to slide them up under her dress as he turned to Jones. “Indy, thanks,” He reached out, clapping him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been there.”</p><p>Jones laughed, finally taking the gun out of his palm and swiftly taking all the bullets out before tossing it into the dumpster. “You probably would have made a nice, slick switch like you were planning, right?”</p><p>Steve tipped his head to the side, unable to hide his smile. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “Everyone in that place was armed to the teeth. Might not have gotten out alive if we were caught.”</p><p>Peggy, pants and boots on bottom and dress on top, stepped over to them and lifted her hair. Steve didn’t even flinch as he pulled the zipper down for her. “I’m sorry you didn’t get your information, Doctor Jones.”</p><p>“Not the worst thing in the world. I didn’t think I’d get much from him anyway. And call me Indy, please,” He couldn’t help but be slightly amazed and mesmerized as Peggy managed to slip each arm out of the dress while holding it securely to her chest, then shimmied into an army issue T-shirt without revealing an inch of skin as  the dress fell to her ankles. “No need to be formal.”</p><p>“Sorry to be so informal,” she blushed a bit, rolling the dress unceremoniously in her hands then stuffing it into the saddlebag. “We have to be back to base as soon as possible.” She reached back under her hair again but this time when she moved her hands away the blonde wig came with them, her brunette locks pin curled tight underneath, “And they’ll be looking for a blonde.”</p><p>“Aren’t we all.” Indy couldn’t help but be a bit shocked. Steve’s transformation wasn’t as stark: he’d ditched the tux coat, bowtie, shirt, shoes, and cummerbund, and slipped on boots and a brown motorcycle jacket over the undershirt and tux pants. As Peggy pulled her hair down he realized they looked like two completely different people and would blend out into the night with no problem. </p><p>“Peggy can ride on my lap if you need to get somewhere,” Steve offered. The woman in question nodded as she pulled her pin curls down, bobby pins held tight in her mouth keeping her from saying anything. “It won’t work for far, but I’m not exactly sure leaving you out here is the best idea.”</p><p>Jones undid his own bow tie and top button, messed his hair and pulled out his own glasses before removing his coat. He wasn’t exactly a different person, but with his coat slung over his arm he looked different enough. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m staying a couple of streets over.”</p><p>“You’re sure?” Steve asked, still looking a bit like he was going to fling Jones over his shoulder like he had Peggy earlier. </p><p>“Absolutely.” Jones held out his hand. “Maybe next time we can work together on purpose.”</p><p>Steve shook his hand heartily. “It would be my pleasure.”</p><p>Indy tipped a small bow, “Agent Carter, thank you for the dance.”</p><p>“And thank you for your help,” Peggy replied with a small smile. She moved close and surprised Jones by hugging him, but her whisper was far from friendly, “And the next time, if you lie to us about why you’re there I’ll put a heel in your neck, too.” Steve threw his leg over the bike and revved it to life as Peggy slipped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. </p><p>Jones watched as the bike sped away, somehow having more respect for her that she called him out. He looked around the alley and slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out the medallion he’d pulled from Oster in a move he had thought no one had seen. This was what he’d come for: a golden pendant with the Pieta painted on one side and what seemed to be a simple prayer on the other. He read the words of the prayer to himself and smiled when the pattern of letters jumped out at him, the code he was hoping to see exactly where he thought it was. </p><p>Jones grasped the medallion tight and slipped it back in his pocket, whistling as he started towards his hostel.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>For Steggy Week ’20 on Tumblr Day 7: Free Choice<br/>Because I’m mad that my computer ate a fic that I’m convinced I wrote, I ended up writing this. This isn’t that story, but I wanted to play with Indiana Jones again. Also, I speak only English and a smattering of poor Spanish. Google translate did all the heavy lifting for me, so if anyone can actually make some of these translations better I’m open to it. I’m pretty sure the Latin translations are… rough… but it felt important that Peggy and Indy were actually speaking different languages, and I tried to stick to languages they’d likely know.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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